Posts from — January 2010

There is simply nothing better than the smell of cookies baking in the oven. Okay, so that’s probably not true. In fact I can name quite a few things that top the smell of cookies baking in the oven. The way the air smells in the mountains of Maine for one. But today, on this 0 degree Saturday afternoon, the smell of my M&M cookies browning in the oven – aaah, perfection.

I had to work this morning. That meant getting up at 6:30 am on a Saturday. Which of course, was fairly easy considering my quiet night in. See? Staying in on the weekends really does have its benefits. No hangover, well rested, energetic at 6:30 am! Anyways, after working for a morning event, and engaging in a snuggle sesh with my hungover boyfriend, I return to my comfy, warm abode. A healthy lunch – tomato salad, grilled zucchini, avocado, apple slices – mmm.

And now.. cookies.

The secret to satisfying your self? Learning to make choices that are true to what you really want. For 3 or 4 months now I’ve struggled with the ‘still living the college life, even though I’m an adult’ thing. You know, going out every night possible, drinking excessively, spending way too much money, and quite frankly, not really having that much fun with it all. Going out ‘just because’ gets quite old after 10 years of doing it… and well, I’m over it. So I’ve been trying quite seriously to stay in more often, to stay in when I want to, to let my boyfriend and friends go out, to not guilt them in to staying in with me. I can enjoy my quiet Friday night all by myself thank you. That was tough to believe at first, but now it’s absolutely glorious.

A healthy dinner along side of hours and hours of Say Yes To The Dress courteous of On Demand is right up my alley.

Today I finished the one task that has remained on my to do list since October 27, 2009. Yes, that is over 3 full months ago. Yes, I, have put a project off for 3 months. Don’t tell bossman, but I always save this task for the last minute. But completing it, the satisfaction of crossing it off my to to list – that feeling, was glorious.

Currently planning a fantastic getaway to Los Angeles: the one and only, the love it or hate it LA. Since the age of um, I don’t know, maybe 3 years old, I’ve been fascinated with Hollywood. Fascinated is the respectable way to state the situation, obsessed may be a bit more truthful. So in 7th grade when Samantha and I took our friendship to the best-friend, attached at the hip level, it was quite a relief to find that I was not the only Mary-Kate and Ashley wannabe, obsessed with being: skinny, famous, rich, and having 90210 in my address.

A few years of therapy and 23 years of maturity have helped me get over the obsessively skinny thing. Thankfully. However, the rich and famous and 90210 dwelling pieces… not so much. I’m the type of crazy cat who thought, and continues to think things like ‘hey, I’m pretty cool, and pretty pretty, and pretty nice, if only I ran into Justin Timberlake somehow, he would totally dig me.” With the same kind of twisted reality, I’m quite convinced that I would make a marvelous actress, and could surpass any of the trashy reality TV show stars that I love and adore so much. I mean, the OC hardly had even remotely quality acting.

So, anyways, since 7th grade, Samantha and I have dreamed of taking a trip to LA and POOF! with a snap of our fingers becoming rich and famous. Now here we are, well over 10 years later and actually planning the trip to LA. Unfortunately for our youthful dreams, this trip won’t be the POOF! snap our fingers and become rich and famous kind of trip… it will be more along the lines of visiting family, partying at the spots we’ve always dreamed of frequenting and trying desperately to wine and dine ourselves into the company of someone maybe on the D-list.

Man, I can’t wait.

I’ve been laughing a lot lately.  I mean, I’ve always had my giddy moments, and my hyperactive days.  But I’ve also, on at least 4 instances in my life, had a complete stranger come up to me – or walk by me – and say something like: “Smile hunny, smile!  You’d be so much prettier if you were smiling.” Now 4 is not a big number. If something happens just 4 times, more often than not it’s considered dismissible. But what does it say about me, if 4 separate times a complete stranger has gone out of his or her way to approach me, to speak to me!  Me, a complete stranger!  To tell me to smile.  To let me know that I look awfully sad with my lips pursed taught.  To let me know that I’d be look a whole lot prettier if I smiled.

I walked away thinking about how I carry myself, how I present myself on a daily basis, how I hold my body, my weight, my energy as I walk down the street, how I come across to complete strangers.  I recall a theater class exercise: walk around for an entire day with your lips loose, not held together.  Let your jaw unclench, let the air flow freely between the gaps of your teeth.  This was a lesson in exposing our self.  A lesson in vulnerability.   Try it.

So like the theater exercise, these individuals were noticing, in a split second, the tension, the closure, the privacy, the frigging mopiness that is me!  That is not good.

Now a days I smile at strangers.  If I bump into, or need to walk around someone in a crowded Starbucks, I look up at them with a smile as I say ‘whoops, sorry.’  You know what I used to do?  Without even noticing?  My default reaction would have been to think ‘ugh,’  perhaps glare at them, maybe even roll my eyes.  Hypocrisy, hello! Rolls reversed that old me would infuriate me.  How rude, how unnecessarily mean, unkind.

Not anymore.  And you know what?  Now, as I find myself laughing.  Deeb belly laughs.  Tears in my eyes, short of breath laughs.  Laughing fits with my boyfriend on the T, in the car ride just the two of us, in the office, on the couch.  Laughing has the power to make you so, so happy.   And laughter is contagious. Hopefully my smiles will warm the hearts of the strangers around me.

After avoiding the supermarket for quite literally months, I decided to let my wallet take a hit and well… buy some food.  With Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, trips home and short work weeks, the need for fresh fruit, vegetables and milk seemed far less urgent than it ought to for a normal, active 23 year old.  I think I kind of amazed myself — seeing how long I could last on pasta, rice, Lean Cuisines and frozen vegetables (best thing ever for a girl on a budget).  I suppose I made a few trips here and there to pick up one … or two items.  Those weeks when I craved a yogurt or the nights I really, really had a hankering for Kraft macaroni and cheese.

But a full on, $100+,  get everything you’ve been craving and wanting and needing kind of trip to the supermarket – aah well it was WAY, way overdue.  So Sunday night, off I went.

Since then I’ve been treated gloriously by the items in my fridge: plenty of things to make healthy, reasonably sized snacks, fresh lunches and home made (non-frozen) dinners.  But today as I packed up my lunch for work, I realized that this eating healthy thing kind of felt like a trip back to 1st grade.  There I was in my kitchen – dolling out a perfectly portioned handful of blueberries; four strawberries, tops sliced off and quartered, two spoonfuls of peanut butter to accompany the small Macintosh apple, sliced.  And all of these things, (much to my visual OCD’s delight) fit perfectly into individual mini sized Tupperware pieces.  Lids popped on, and food items placed into my rather girly girlish lunch bag.

If only I still used my bright colored, monogrammed,  LL Bean back pack… then I’d officially be heading back to 1st grade.  Instead, here I am sitting in my cubicle at my 9:00-5:00 job, office located in the heart of the financial district… eating my sliced apples with a side of PB and a perfectly portioned handful of blueberries.  Bossman and clients must think I’m quite the catch.

My big sissy is getting married.  Engaged for just two months now, last weekend I joined both her and my mother for a girls day in Portsmouth.   I ran through the downpour, the air still warm, the streets of the city surprisingly quiet.  Certainly not the same crowded streets that I find in the summer months.  Not the same American consumers enjoying a hot, sun filled June day.  But the rain felt nice.  The rather warm January air comforting.  I skipped down the cobblestone lined Bow St. to find, tucked into the hill, a small restaurant.  My mother and sister sat perched at a table in the window.  As always, little sister is late – a subtle sign of my defiance, always holding up them up.. just a bit.

We enjoyed white sangria, crab cakes, goat cheese salads and panini sandwiches.  Then it was off to the store.  My sister had asked me weeks before – “Are you going to get all choked up?”  No.. no I didn’t think I would.  I know the tears of happiness, of loving pride will wait until the wedding day.  The soon to be brother in law has been a part of my family almost as long as I can remember.  Literally.  It was over 10 years ago that they first began dating.  I, not even in high school.  He’s wonderful, he loves her, he adores her.  And I hope she does the same to him.

The wedding dress store was not quite like that in Say Yes to the Dress, but it was quite an experience.  An over energized wedding dress consultant – hair fiery red, her curls bounced around the room with every one of her exaggerated exclamations.  She either really, really loves what she does, or she works commission and needed desperately to convince my sister of a buy.

Crazy consultant aside, my sister is one of the most gorgeous human beings I’ve ever met.  I’m not kididng.  And I’m not just saying this because she’s blood.  I knew going into the appointment that her tiny, hourglass shaped figure would make even the cheapest, ugliest of dresses look like a million bucks.  But my sister knows exactly what she wants, so we did not waste time trying on the cheapest and the ugliest.  After an hour and a half  (mind you this is probably her 20th time looking at dresses) she narrowed it down to three.  All the same designer, all the ‘same’ style, all insanely.. incredibly beautiful.

My big sissy is getting married.  Still 12 months away, I glow with happiness thinking about her new life.  Her past life continues, begins anew, with her soon to be husband.  How exciting.  How wonderful.  Ah, life.

Cheers to my seester.

Do you step over it? Kick it, break it, watch it crumble? Or are you too busy with your head held high, looking up towards the sky, to even see it? Do you walk right into it, trip, stumble.

My heart hurts a bit today. My head aches full with to do lists and overdue tasks at work. My bank account has been defeated by a long weekend. Happiness is so many things. But happiness is not now. I’m struggling to get through the day, excited that it’s already 1pm, yet set back by my unproductive morning. Putting things off at work is even more demoralizing than putting things off in my personal realm of life. Putting things off at work gives me anxiety. Bossman always seems to ask for the things I’ve been putting off, the day before I decide to finish them. Tricky, isn’t he?

Anyways, today is just a tough day. The snow falling is beginning to turn to rain. An even stronger indicator that today, and tonight may just be a day to mope. To eat the pile of candy left over from my 3D Avatar experience yesterday. To eat the pasta that’s in my cupboard. That, will not only be satisfying – it is also of necessity. Pay day is Friday and I’ll be eating left overs while drinking homemade coffee and water until then.

Today, almost a month into my journey towards happiness, I encountered a wall. Nothing I can’t step over, or even break down with my riding boots. I know my sorrowful state will pass, and my giddy natured self will return. But damn. Walking around with your head held high, looking towards the sky, is not always the smartest way to roam. Too often I’m afraid I’ll miss the reality that I face on the ground.

One day at a time, cheers.

(Photo found on Flickr here)

I love you means that I accept you for the person that you are, and that I do not wish to change you into someone else. It means that I will love you and stand by you even through the worst of times. It means loving you when you’re in a bad mood or too tired to do things I want to do. It means loving you when you’re down, not just when you’re fun to be with. I love you means that I know your deepest secrets and do not judge you for them, asking in return only that you do not judge me for mine. It means that I care enough to fight for what we have and that I love you enough not to let go. It means thinking of you, dreaming of you, wanting and needing you constantly, hoping you’ll feel the same way.

Tonight is the night I should finally put into action, all the thoughts I think and the words I preach. I had a dinner planned with the girls. He had a post-holiday work party with his close friend. But he said he would not be out late, and wanted to catch up with me early, to have a low key night.

I had a great night.  Scratch that, I had an incredible night.  My three best friends were all here.  We went out to eat, we hung out, we had some drinks and many laughs.  It’s 12:30 am.  It’s not too late, but it’s later than he had anticipated being out.  I should just say ‘have fun darling,’ and fall fast asleep, although it may be alone.  After all, I’m up fairly early to volunteer tomorrow.

But…. he SAID we would spend tonight together.  He SAID that he wouldn’t be out too late and that he’d come back this way to spend the night.  He SAID… well what he said doesn’t mean much, beause if I’ve learned anything from this relationship – it would be that my boyfriend lives on the ‘no plan plan.’  And tonight is the perfect night to let it go. I’m tired, I had fun.  He’s out, he’s having fun.  Sounds like a win win situation right?

Yes, and it needs to be.  The old me would get so angry.  Angry that he changed his plans, angry that he said he would come over, angry that he didn’t.

Aaah, the art of letting go – and not picking fights where one needs not be.